


These Thoughts We Hold

by Shawnathin93



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2750228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shawnathin93/pseuds/Shawnathin93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She was everything to me. She was my earth, my sky, my wind, my sun. And that was all ripped from me. Now, all I know is darkness."</p><p>Eren struggles with the death of his girlfriend, to the point of suicide. Insert Armin, a freshman at the local college, who just happens to be in the right place at the right time. </p><p>Trigger warning for suicide and depression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Thoughts We Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Let me know what you think of this story! I usually write fluff and happiness, so this is definitely a change of pace. If you like it, kudos and comments will guarantee a chapter two!

He couldn’t do it anymore.

 

He just couldn’t fucking do it.

 

Maybe another shot of rum would help…

 

It didn’t.

 

How about another?

 

It didn’t.

 

Another?

 

It didn’t.

 

Eren sat at his kitchen table. It was well past drinking hours; nearly 4 in the morning, but he didn’t care. As he sat, staring at the nearly empty bottle, all he could think about was her. The way she would make him smile with a word, a touch. It had always been them against the world.

 

“Looks like the world has won.” He muttered to himself, finishing off the bottle, before throwing it as hard as he could at the wall.

 

It shattered into a million pieces, broken glass flying everywhere. It was a good thing no one was home.

 

No one would ever be home again.

 

Eren felt a tear roll down his cheek. He stared down at the little puddle of water on the table, before hitting it as hard as he could with his fist. He let out a scream. “Why did it have to be her? Why not me? What god exists that she had to die, while I am allowed to live?” He yelled, looking up at the ceiling, tears freely running down his face. His hands clenched so hard that he felt his nails digging deep into his skin. His sadness slowly turned to anger as he sat there, and he knew that he needed to do something, anything that would take his mind off of her.

 

He flipped the table. It hit the floor, legs breaking off, and joined the broken glass. That wasn’t good enough for him, so he started breaking other things. Little things, big things, it didn’t matter. He just broke whatever was in his line of sight. Cups, plates, appliances, anything he could get his hands on. He cut himself numerous times on shards of glass and metal, but in his fury, he didn’t see nor care about them.

 

Once everything had been sufficiently broken, he found himself sitting in the middle of the kitchen. He finally looked around. Debris was lying everywhere. Staring down at his hands, he found them both bleeding freely and torn up pretty bad. If he were in a better state, he probably would have known to get stitches, but at this point, why should he? This last attempt to calm his nerves had done nothing. There was only one solace that he knew. Only one thing left to do that could bring a permanent end to his suffering.

 

Getting up, he made his way to the door, not bothering to get dressed, or even grab a coat. He knew it would be cold outside, but he considered this his penance. His walk of shame, for being unable to cope; for not being strong enough. Had it been the other way around, he knew that she would have been able to do it. She would have found a way.

 

It was snowing outside. “Perfect”, he muttered to himself. He slipped on his shoes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to make the trip without them. He laughed out loud at the irony of the situation. Being unable to make the walk without shoes, when his destination was…

 

In all, he was wearing his cargo shorts, a very short sleeved shirt, and his shoes. It was all he needed for the trip; no one was going to be out at this time of day anyway. No one to stop him.

 

He started walking, shivering to himself. Every time he hugged his arms, he felt a pang of pain, but it was numbed by both the cold and his emotions. His arms soon became red with dried blood, which would crack every time he moved. His hands finally stopped bleeding, leaving behind nothing but a dull throbbing and more dried blood. In all, he was a complete, absolute mess, and he didn’t care one bit.

 

A car passed him. For a moment, he considered hiding. He knew he was a mess, and that anyone who saw him would try to stop him. He had banked on his walk being uninhabited by other life. He started to panic when the car neared, but it just went on by. It probably hadn’t noticed him in the dark.

 

The bridge wasn’t far. It connected the two cities, with a very wide, and very deep river between them. It was easily 200 feet above the water, which was perfect for him. He needed to be sure that it would happen on impact. That was the only way he knew this madness would end.

 

The sounds of his feet crunching on snow soon turned to sounds of metal, as his feet hit the bridge. He made his way to the middle, knowing that was where the river was deepest. _Also, who jumps off a bridge anywhere but the middle?_ He grimly smiled to himself, finding it almost comical that of all the things to be thinking about at a time like this, he was concerned with the logistics of committing suicide. _Fitting._ He thought to himself. _Of course I’m thinking about the smaller details of suicide. Anything is better than thinking of what I almost had. Of what I’ll never know again._

 

Had he been home, he would have tried to break something. Here, he felt somewhat at peace. It was definitely getting lighter outside, the birds were starting to chirp, and, in another life, he would have found the whole thing quite beautiful.

 

He clambered up onto the side of the bridge. “Even the name of this bridge says death.” He said out loud, to no one in particular. “Immolation Bridge.” It had been built in the early 1900s by people who literally gave their lives building it. He didn’t know the exact details of it, but he knew that there had been a war, and the results were the bridge that connected their two cities; a token of peace.

 

He reached the edge, and sat down. He didn’t want to jump off; that was too much. He wanted to calmly fall, and end it all. Simple, easy, efficient.

 

He took one last look at the sky. The sun was finally starting to come up, casting its glow on the entire river. He sighed, took a deep breath, and –

 

“Hey, please don’t do that. Please.”

 

He froze. The voice had been soft, light, and full of fear. Turning, he saw a boy, with very blonde hair, and deep blue eyes. He was small, very small. He was wearing a backpack, probably on his way to college. He had a look of pure terror on his face, and his hand was outstretched, as though to grab him. They were about five feet away, so that would have been impossible.

 

“Please don’t fall. I couldn’t handle that. Please, just come over here. It will be okay, I promise.”

 

In that moment, Eren saw her. They were both standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Eren had been cutting vegetables, and she was handling the turkey. He walked over to the garbage to throw away the tips of the carrots, and tripped. Before he could get up, he heard a beautiful sound. It was her laughter. He looked up to see her laughing freely, her hand outstretched to help him up.

 

He let out a choked sob, and reality came crashing back to him.

 

“It won’t.” He said, before blacking out. The last thing he remembered was a scream.

 

Then all was darkness.  


End file.
